


you don't have to play the part

by fairytalelights



Series: you don't have to play the part [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Drunk Texting, Famous Harry, Flirting, M/M, Misunderstandings, Non-Famous Louis, Panic Attacks, Pining, Social Media, Texting, Twitter, famous/non-famous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 12:19:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10100453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairytalelights/pseuds/fairytalelights
Summary: Louis knew that this should be the part where he admitted defeat. Told funny, adorable, gorgeous Harry Styles that he wasn't actually exchanging flirty Twitter messages with three time Grammy winner Zayn Malik, that it was just Louis, ordinary guy, who was nothing more than the guy who handled Zayn's social media.But Louis had never been someone who prided himself in making the best decisions, and there also was a tiny (very, very big) part of him, that couldn't let Harry go just yet.or the one where Harry is Britain's new pop sensation, Louis is R&B star Zayn's sassy social media manager and things get confusing.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Translation into Russian available [here](https://ficbook.net/readfic/5897746) by [katyaabram](https://ficbook.net/authors/779417)
> 
> I've been working on this for a long time, so I'm glad it's finally done.  
> Thank you, to my wonderful sister, who loved this fic sometimes more than I did, helped me plan the plot and encouraged me to write. Also to Dana, who made a writing playlist for me and Jana, who supports my writing by yelling lovely things at me on Twitter.
> 
> Specific spoilery warnings are in the endnotes!  
> Texts from Louis are in bold, texts from Harry in italic.
> 
> Disclaimer: I know nothing about the music industry and how social media managers for celebrities work. I'm sure they exist, but I'm also sure the probability that a job like Louis' job in this fic actually exists is slim to none, so let's just call it creative liberty.

The coffee tasted like shit. Louis would give absolutely everything for a good cup of tea right now, but he needed something stronger if he was going to work through the night again.

Tapping an odd rhythm with his fingers against his laptop keyboard only contributed to lulling him into a sleepy state. At this point he was only barely keeping his eyes open and focusing on the bright blue social media website in front of him.

On a normal day, Louis liked his job. Being his best friend Zayn's manager/personal assistant/songwriter/guy-who-handled-his-press was usually kind of fun and it got him access to parties and VIP clubs all over the world.

But if there was one thing he hated even more than being dragged on daily pap outings with Zayn and his model of the week, it was Zayn's Twitter account.

Zayn's mentions were a mess on a good day, a downright war zone on a bad one, and the only thing that made it worse was Zayn's absolute inability to use the bloody website for more than posting a Dubsmash video every three months. No matter how much Louis tried to reason with him about how important it was to make yourself seem in touch with your fanbase, there wasn't much more than a “Good morning”-Tweet to get out of Zayn.

That was the only reason why Louis was up at two a.m. that night, drafting a Tweet about how much he enjoyed the American food and how much he loved being there. Never mind the fact that Louis himself was in London, cuddled under his blankets with a cup of disgusting coffee, and also hated most American food with a burning passion.

 

After he clicked the send-button, he switched over to Zayn's mentions, with the intention of finding some cute innocent fanart to like or maybe retweet, and to not get scarred for life again by a drawing of Zayn with a dick in his mouth. (“Just be happy that my fans are so accepting of my bisexuality, Louis!” Zayn had said when Louis had demanded a raise to compensate for 'emotional damage' as he liked to call it.)

Instead, this time, there seemed to be a full blown Twitter fight going on in Zayn's mentions, which several thousand people participated in. After much scrolling and stalking individual people's profiles, Louis finally got to the main point – apparently a website had issued a rather insulting article about Zayn's new album, comparing it to the debut album of this year's X-Factor winner and England's new pop sensation Harry Styles.

The people in his mentions were either part of his own fandom – well, Zayn's fandom – or Harry's, the two kinds of people easily distinguishable by their different profile pictures and Twitter handles. ( _@zaynsckmypssy_ , really, most of these people were minors, Louis was constantly worrying.)

Louis sighed and decided that it was his time to shine. Because if there was one thing he was proud of when it came to managing Zayn's Twitter account, it was how he made him seem all sassy and hilarious, a stark contrast to his real life personality. Not that Zayn couldn't be funny when he wanted to, but he didn't actually have the sharp edgy humour that his Twitter followers had come to love about him.

So there was only one thing to do, if he wanted to keep his – well Zayn's – reputation as the “sassiest celebrity of the century” (that's what Sugarscape called him at least) alive. He had to respond.

 

 **@zaynmalik:** Well, call me back when you have won three Grammys, Styles.  sugarscape.com/news/a956732/harry-styles-or-zayn-malik-album-contest/

 

Satitisfied, he closed his laptop, finished his tea and decided that Zayn definitely didn't pay him nearly enough to make staying up until three a.m. worth it.

 

*

 

When Louis woke up the next morning, it was to his phone vibrating against his arm for the third time in a row and he finally decided that he just couldn't take it anymore.

“What is it?” he mumbled upon seeing Zayn's name on the display. He and Zayn actually shared a flat, but due to Zayn being the rockstar that he was, Louis pretty much lived on his own most of the time.

“Why is my phone full with messages, including ten from my sister, who is apparently a huge fan of the guy, that are asking why I got into a Twitter fight with Harry Styles?” Zayn greeted him. He didn't sound particularly upset, just a bit confused. And maybe annoyed.

“Oh fuck.” Louis scrambled to grab his laptop from the floor. “Did he reply? You know, I was just- Why the fuck is your sister a fan, he makes the trashiest pop I have ever heard in my life!”

“Is that important right now?” Zayn sighed. “Apparently he didn't take your comment that well, and said something about how he always admired me? Which makes me seem like an asshole, Louis, why are you doing this?”

“He did what? Why didn't he fucking fight back, that's just not right, he's playing unfair.” His laptop had finally loaded up Twitter and there it was, all over his timeline.

 

 **@Harry_Styles** : @zaynmalik I've admired and wanted to be like you for years, I'm a bit disappointed now. Sorry if being compared to me offended you.

 

“Oh fuck,” Louis cursed again. “Couldn't he just have written some lame reply about how he's gonna win four Grammys next year and we could have all moved on?”

Zayn sighed. Again. “Please, Louis, I know this is part of your Twitter thing that I don't get, but just fix this. Apologize to him or something.”

Louis wanted to fire back a more elaborate explanation about how this situation totally wasn't his fault, but Zayn had already hung up on him.

Well, there went his Netflix morning, because now he had to do damage control. For himself. Didn't managers usually have to do damage control for their clients? Louis really definitely needed a pay raise.

After he'd deleted the first Tweet from the evening before, he added a nice general apology to the whole fiasco.

 

 **@zaynmalik** : Sorry, need to learn to keep my mouth shut, ha! Didn't mean to offend anyone, you know how I am guys !!

 

From an image perspective he had done everything necessary to avoid a bigger mess. Everyone would talk about it for a few more days, but then move on to someone's fake pregnancy or something like that.

The problem was, Louis was feeling kind of bad for Harry Styles. The poor kid seemed really hurt by his Tweet, even though it was just supposed to be some harmless fun. Louis imagined that it probably couldn't be easy to get dissed by your favourite popstar slash music idol and promptly felt even worse.

Sighing, he opened up his DMs.

 

**Hey, hope you didn't take the Tweet too personal. I can get kind of mean sometimes on Twitter by trying to be funny. Glad that you're a fan of mine, hope that doesn't change ;) I'm really sorry!**

 

He wasn't exactly expecting a reply, maybe a quick “okay, cool” or something like that, but instead his phone vibrated just a few minutes later, the message reading:

 

_It's okay, thanks for apologizing! I'm sorry if my followers are being rude to you, I didn't mean to make such a big thing out of it. I guess I'm kind of sensitive towards that subject because so many celebrities I've met turned out to be assholes. You seem alright though ;)_

 

Wow, that kid had to be sunshine personified. Louis would have stayed mad for a week and then followed it up by a passive aggressive one-liner.

 

**No problem, it's the decent thing to do, isn't it?**

 

And he should have left it at that, should have really definitely left it at that, but he was intrigued by this kid and for some reason he wanted nothing more than to keep the conversation going, so he added:

 

**I've never actually listened to your album, is it any good? ;)**

 

_Well I feel obligated to say it's fucking phenomenal, but in all honesty, I didn't get to have as much input as I would have liked, so it feels a bit impersonal. A bit too much sugary pop._

 

Louis gaped at the screen. He was pretty sure that Harry wasn't supposed to talk like that about his own album to someone he had just started talking to, it had to be some kind of contract breech.

And sure enough, the message was followed by another one only seconds later.

 

_Oh god, please don't tell anyone I said that. I love my music. I love my fans. I really don't want to insult their taste in pop music. Especially if it's my own music they are buying. I feel like I'm not making sense._

 

Louis couldn't help but be a bit endeared as he imagined a flustered Harry Styles typing these messages. He didn't actually know that much about him, he just remembered a curly headed guy on the X-Factor last year. All of his sisters had been crushing on him, despite Louis helpfully informing them that he was over twenty and therefore definitely off limits to them.

 

**Okay, popstar, I'm gonna give this album a listen and you're gonna have to endure my live commentary.**

 

Technically, Louis had to organize a few more details for some of the events Zayn would be appearing at next month and he also had to sort out something about the studio not having enough time-slots available, but right now, he figured Zayn's social media appearance was much more important. Who knew, Harry Styles might destroy Zayn's career. (After exchanging only two messages with the guy, Louis had the feeling that Harry wouldn't even hurt a fly, but one could never be too careful, right?)

 

Which is how Louis found himself spending his morning in bed, earphones plugged in, and listening to Harry Styles' album on repeat.

 

“ **When he lays you down I might just die inside” Oh my god, Styles, this is depressing, I'm weeping.**

**This song might be a bit too melodramatic for me.**

 

_You don't understand, this is art._

 

**No offense, but if I have to listen to you wail “It's gotta be youuu” one more time, I might throw my laptop across the room.**

 

_Heeey, don't be mean :(_

 

**Okay, Up All Night, I like this one. It's fast and it doesn't talk about you pining for your one true love. Bit too much sunshine boy for me, but I have a feeling that's just your personality.**

 

_Not all of us can be dark and brooding R &B stars, Zayn._

 

Louis flinched a bit at the message. Not that he had forgotten that it wasn't actually him that Harry was exchanging these messages with, it was just, somewhere during his commentary, he let the facade slip a bit. Not that Harry would notice. He had no idea that Zayn might be reacting differently to his album than Louis would.

 

**Haha, you got me there.**

 

He should stop. This had clearly been enough banter to make Harry forget the stupid Twitter fight Louis had instigated. But then the next song came on.

 

**I take everything back, “I see you with him slow dancing”? What the fuck, why is this song about pining again, I'm gonna fling myself out of a window.**

 

_The lyrics are very emotional, I'll have you know. My fans love it._

_Okay, listen to “I Want”, it's my favourite, I think you're gonna like that one._

 

Louis clicked on the song. One more clearly wouldn't hurt.

 

It kind of escalated from there. After Louis had listened to his entire album, they switched to talking about movies (“What do you mean _Love Actually_ is a better movie than _Grease_?”) and after that the conversation had drifted to their favourite foods, holiday locations and somehow colours.

Louis didn't know that a person could have so much to say about the colour blue, but Harry Styles had managed to make every topic the most interesting that Louis'd ever talked about in his life and he kind of didn't want their conversation to end.

Needless to say, he didn't get much work done that day, or in the evening. And before going to sleep, he texted Harry goodnight. (There were a lot of emojis involved. Louis didn't want to talk about it.)

 

If he thought this was a one time thing, the next few days proved him wrong.

Louis tried to tell himself that checking his phone was part of his job and keeping up with Zayn's social media was also part of his job, but he had absolutely no excuse for the way he repeatedly punched his phone to get it to load the Twitter app, two seconds after he'd opened his eyes in the morning.

There were five new messages from @Harry_Styles.

 

_Goodnight, was nice talking to you_

_xx_

_Hey look at this, how adorable_

 

The next two messages were pictures of kittens. Small baby kittens. Louis didn't know someone could actually feel that much endearment for another person. But that was okay. Louis could handle this.

 

After a few days that went very much the same – Louis tried to work, made a few phone calls, got distracted by Zayn's Twitter messages, tried to work again, gave up and just read Harry's messages rambling about his day, while trying to be as vague as possible about his own day in his answers – something changed.

 

 _can I have your phone number? might be easier than twitter dms_ , the text on Louis' screen read.

_promise I'm not gonna give it to a crazy stalker fan_

_but who knows, maybe i'm the crazy stalker fan_

_please ignore that I said that_

_that's exactly what a crazy stalker fan would say, right?_

 

Fuck. Louis knew that this should be the part where he admitted defeat. Told funny, adorable, gorgeous Harry Styles that he wasn't actually exchanging flirty Twitter messages with three time Grammy winner Zayn Malik, that it was just Louis, ordinary guy, who was nothing more than the guy who handled Zayn's social media.

But Louis had never been someone who prided himself in making the best decisions, and there also was a tiny (very, very big) part of him, that couldn't let Harry go just yet. That wanted to make him laugh just for a little while longer, even if he only saw it expressed through emojis. (Louis was deliberately not thinking about how amazing it would be to make Harry laugh in real life, just for him.)

 

 **yeah sure, you're my favourite crazy stalker fan ;)** Louis sent, winky face included and all before he forwarded his phone number.

Okay, so he might have a tiny bit of a crush on Harry Styles. Whatever. Everyone had crushes on popstars. It didn't mean anything.

(Louis was fucked. Louis was well and truly fucked because two hours later Harry made an awful knock-knock joke and Louis actually laughed out loud because he was so endeared. No one could ever find out about this.)

 

*

 

About a week later, after Louis had gotten strangely used to sharing everything even remotely interesting that was happening in his life and wouldn't give away his identity with Harry; he woke up to his phone ringing. Again. Also, there was an angry Zayn on the other side of the line. Again.

“Louis, why is there a driver in front of my house saying that he's here to drive me to the studio? I thought I was going there tomorrow?”

“Oh, fuck,” Louis muttered and tried to press his phone inbetween his cheek and his shoulder while struggling to put on socks. “Yeah, um, about that, the studio was almost completely booked, so I had to move some things around and the only available time was, like, right now. And,” Louis winced, “it's possible that I forgot to inform you.”

“Louis,” Zayn sounded like he was speaking through his teeth, “I'm... Fine, just meet me at the studio.” Then he hung up. Louis sighed.

This was all Harry's fault. Especially the part where Louis completely forgot about the studio time he had booked and not only didn't inform Zayn, but also forgot to set an alarm for himself.

They had stayed up all night texting, because he and Harry had gotten into an argument over who the best superhero was, which turned into a deep analysis of both Marvel and DC characters and somehow ended with Harry just rambling about how Steve and Bucky were totally in love and how harmful heteronormativity in mainstream media was. At which point Louis started to answer the messages on his phone with one hand, and frantically googled “Harry Styles sexuality” on his laptop with his other hand.

He just didn't know how exactly he should explain to Zayn that he abandoned his work in favour of watching various video compilations of Harry Styles jumping around with rainbow flags (but Louis had every right to watch that, as a gay man it was nice to see a celebrity support his community) and being ambiguous about his dream girl in interviews (Louis didn't even have an excuse ready for why the words “someone who's nice” were still playing on a loop in his head).

Even now that he was late and currently in the process of simultaneously eating breakfast and trying to fix his hair, Louis couldn't help but pause for a minute to text a quick **slept in late this morning 'cause you kept me up all night** to Harry.

He almost fell down the stairs while rushing out the door, because Harry had just replied with three suggestive winking emojis. This boy was going to kill him.

 

Immediately after arriving at the studio, Zayn disappeared into one of the booths to work on recording the already written songs. Louis had another destination. The writing studio. It was actually not even a real studio, Louis mostly liked to call it a “creative space” lovingly. Julian, one of his co-writers, liked to call it “the dump”.

But this tiny room – small tables, lumpy sofa and dirty ashtrays included – this was the reason why Louis loved his job. Contrary to what many people, including his mum, believed, Louis didn't actually want to make phone calls and organize meetings for Zayn for the rest of his life. He wanted to write music. And here, in Zayn's familiar recording studio, with the two producers that worked on every album with him, he felt the most content, like he was living the dream. Or something dream-ish.

The song they were currently working on was... nice. Not exceptional, not Louis' best work, just nice. There was something that could make it great though, but Louis didn't know what it was exactly and it was difficult to describe it in a way that made sense. After fifteen minutes of trying to explain that there was something essential missing and that Louis had a vague idea of what it was, just not one that he could put into words, his co-writers were starting to get frustrated with him and they moved on to a different, almost finished song. Louis put a quick note into his phone, which just read, _find out what is wrong with the song and fix it!!_

 

*

 

**hey, how was your day?**

 

_nice, i had a photoshoot, i think it might have been the first one where i wasn't told to just stand there and smile, like, they seemed to get me a bit more_

 

A few seconds passed in which Louis just grinned at his phone like a besotted idiot. Then -

 

_i think i can probably be myself a bit more in the future at least i hope so_

 

Louis paused. “Be myself”. Did he just mean his style and music, or... was he maybe implying... The Youtube videos that Louis had watched yesterday night flashed through his mind. He just couldn't help himself when he typed:

 

**any particular thing you want to be yourself with?**

 

The answer took almost five minutes. Louis could see the little dots that indicated that Harry was still typing the whole time, so he expected some long reply instead of the

 _just in general i guess,_ he got in the end. Louis sighed, feeling a tiny sting of disappointment. The message was immediately followed by:

 

_what about you, how was your day, zayn?_

 

For a moment Louis considered telling Harry that he actually hated his own name and didn't want him to call him that anymore, but that would seem weird. He just didn't see why Harry had to shatter the perfect illusion that Louis had built for himself constantly.

 

**was okay, did some writing. didn't work out the way i wanted it to though.**

 

_why not? :(_

 

**me and some guys were writing this song and i think it could be great, there's just something missing.**

 

_can i have a listen? i might know a thing or two about songwriting ;)_

 

**you don't have to, don't wanna bother you**

 

_pleeeease :(_

 

Louis knew he'd give in from the moment he saw the sad smiley face. He maybe would have not gotten that emotional over a single emoji if he hadn't watched Harry do a pouty face in various interviews on Youtube so far.

 

**okay, but it's not perfect yet, you have to promise not to be mean**

 

He hesitated for a moment before attaching the file with his actual voice on it.

 

**here, that's the demo version a guy from my studio recorded as he was writing it. i like the part in the middle, but it's the rest that could sound different i think, i just don't know what it is.**

**  
** Ten minutes later there was an audio file on his phone in which Harry sang. He sang the fucking song and he sang it perfectly, like he knew what Louis wanted it to be like, like he just completed the one missing part to this whole thing. There was a message attached to the audio file.

 

_the song sounds amazing actually, also tell the guy from your studio he has a great voice_

 

Louis stared at the words. Harry didn't know that it was him singing on there, so he definitely wasn't saying it just to be nice. No one had ever told him that he could sing. Why should they, he was writing the songs, Zayn was the star. To hear it from someone like Harry Styles, was... It felt weird. Good weird.

 

_hope you liked the parts i added, now the song sounds more like it's from two perspectives, do you know what i mean_

 

Louis listened to the audio again. “Stockholm Syndrome” was the working title and it worked now, it worked with Harry's deep raspy voice, it worked with the added lyrics from the second perspective, it just... worked. Giddy excitement that this song might be a second “Pillowtalk”, Zayn's greatest hit so far, ran through his body.

 

**i don't know how to thank you curly, this is perfect, you're my new favourite person**

 

_curly? ;)_

 

Oops. Louis made a mental note to himself to start reading over his texts before he sent them next time.

 

**yeah, because of your pretty curls, isn't that obvious**

 

_i like it ;)_

 

Another winky face. This was flirting, this was one-hundred percent flirting. It might have been flirting from the start. A pretty, lovely boy was flirting with him, but all Louis could think about was that he wasn't even the one being flirted with. Zayn was. The thought made him turn his phone on silent for the rest of the night, ignoring the fact that he could think of so many more things to answer Harry.

The **i like** _ **you**_ **;)** stayed in his drafts, unsent.

 

The next day, Louis recorded the demo again, changed a few minor details, and then gave it to Zayn. They were currently in the process of having him sing the song a few times, just to get a feeling of it and what kind of instruments and arrangements they still needed.

After the fifth time, Zayn yanked his headphones from his ears and fixed Louis with an exasperated look.

“You're making your 'You're not singing that the way I wanted you to sing it when I wrote it'-face. What's wrong?”

“It's just -” Louis started, but stopped again. There was a reason why Louis didn't play Harry's demo recording when showing the song to Zayn. He just wasn't ready for a lecture yet, and he didn't want to leave that perfect bubble he had managed to build for himself over the last few weeks.

“You could try to make it sound a bit more... sensual. This is supposed to sound sexy, you know?” Louis settled for.

“More sensual?” Zayn stared at him incredulously. “I thought I kind of put everything I had into that already? You know that this isn't supposed to turn on _you_ personally, Louis, right? And to be honest, I would be quite worried if it did. A bit flattered, but still worried.”

Louis sighed. “Just sing it again, please. I'm in a weird mood, sorry.”

Still, even when Zayn sang the song for the sixth time, Louis couldn't shake the tiny voice in the back of his head that said the song needed a deep, husky voice to sound perfect. It needed Harry.

Forcing the thought from his head, Louis turned up the volume on his own headphones. It was going to be a long day.

 

Things with Harry kind of settled into a rhythm. They would text each other throughout the day, usually funny things that happened to them (Louis tried to exclude things that didn't exactly sound popstar-like) and memes they found on the internet.

Sometimes things would go deeper, like when Harry pulled him into a discussion about music and Louis went on a rant about why The Fray was the best band that had ever existed. They were an hour into a discussion about alternative rock music, when Louis thought about the fact that Zayn's iPod contained mostly charts, electro and R&B. But, like most of the time when the fact that Harry still thought that he was Zayn came up, he pushed it to the back of his mind to think about later.

 

Another thing that seemed to always happen when they texted, was flirting. Now that he had noticed it once, Louis couldn't unsee it.

One of them would make a remark that was on the line to suggestive, the other would reply with something equally as flirty and just before it could get deeper, before anyone could say anything that had real intent behind it, Louis derailed the conversation by making a joke or changing the subject. Harry let him do it and didn't try to push it most of the time, but Louis could tell he was getting frustrated.

Louis tried not to feel bad about it, but he _knew_ that he was leading Harry on (well, if he was even interested in guys, but at this point Louis was 99% sure that he was) and he knew that what he was doing was wrong. It was just too hard to think about breaking off contact with him or, even worse, telling him the truth. So Louis just didn't think about it and let things stay as they were.

 

*

 

_i slept horrible last night. i think i hate my new bed._

 

It was after midnight when Louis got the message and he had to get up at seven the next morning if he wanted to get everything on his agenda done. If it were any of his other friends he'd ignore a random message like that one and answer them in the morning. So Louis had absolutely no excuse when he started to type.

  
**new bed?**

  
_yeah, ever since my first album was so successful, i have been living in this really posh flat. i think i kind of hate it._

  
**boohoo, rich popstar, your life must be so hard.**

  
_shut up, you complain about your flat too sometimes._

“Yeah, because I'm not a successful popstar and Zayn should be paying me more,” Louis muttered under his breath.

  
**okay, touché. so tell me. what do you hate about it, love.**

**  
**

Louis sent the question before he could overthink the use of the petname. It was fine. He called everyone love.

 

_i know i'm being whiny. i don't actually hate it, i just don't think it's very me yet. i guess i just miss home a bit._

  
Louis stared at the screen. This was going into a different direction than their usual conversations.

 

**that sucks. do you get to see your family often?**

 

_no. i know, i'm only living in london, which is three hours away from holmes chapel, but, i don't know._

Nothing for a moment.

 

_it's just hard._

_i miss them all the time, whether i'm on tour or recording in london_

_and they visit me sometimes, but it's not the same._

_sometimes i just want to go home for a bit._

_i don't know, it's stupid_

 

Louis didn't think he'd ever typed a message so fast in his life.

**no it's not**

**  
**

Then he stopped to think about his next answer. He tried to tell himself that he didn't know Harry that well, didn't even know what would comfort him in a situation like this, but that was kind of a lie.

They may have been avoiding deep emotional talks until now, mainly because Louis was an idiot who was pretending to be someone else, but he knew Harry, in a way. He had no doubts that he was _good_ and _kind_ , he was the kind of person who worried about not having tipped enough even hours later and who was convinced that trolls on the internet were all good people deep down. (Louis was glad that Harry apparently never had to interact with Zayn's fandom, his positive attitude probably wouldn't survive very long there.)

 

**i know it can get hard being away from your family**

**when i first moved to london, i missed my mum and my sisters terribly, i didn't have anyone here, it was hard**

**but eventually i realised that missing them was okay, but i had to live my own life too, you know?**

**i still visit them whenever i can, and i still miss them, but thinking about them gives me comfort instead of pain now**

**my mum had two baby twins last year and yeah, sometimes i'm sad that i don't see all of their first steps or that i can't be there for all of it, but coming back home to them now is the best feeling in the world**

**just don't see the happy things back home as the only time you'll ever be happy**

**because there's so much you haven't done yet**

**keep them close, but try to see them as a positive thing you can come back to, not as a depressing thought that's holding you back from being happy**

 

Louis breathed out carefully after sending the last message. He had never revealed that much about himself to Harry, had never even mentioned his family.

It wasn't even because he was pretending to be Zayn; Zayn never talked about his family publicly, most people didn't even know he had sisters.

But even if he did, even if everything Louis just said could be proven wrong by a simple google search, he still couldn't bring himself to regret it. He had to admit, even as desperately as he wanted to deny it, that there was a part of him that itched to bare his entire soul to Harry and to really get to know him in return. That thought made him throw his phone on the other side of his bed for a moment. When it vibrated and lit up with a new notification seconds later, Louis considered just ignoring it. He could go to sleep, get out of this emotional talk and give Harry a generic apology in the morning.

Before he could even seriously consider the possibility, his phone lit up again and Louis reached for it, without even thinking about it. He felt a pang in his chest when he read Harry's next messages.

 

_thank you for telling me all of this. talking to you really helped me a lot, i think i'm gonna call my mum in the morning._

 

A few seconds of Harry typing and then-

 

_i know it sounds silly but could you stay on for a while so i can tell you a bit more about my family? you can also tell me more about yours. i don't know, it's just – helping with the homesickness. thank you again. X_

 

He couldn't just not answer him. It wasn't a possibility anymore.

After changing the alarm on his phone for the next morning to eight instead of seven (maybe he didn't deserve that pay raise after all, but it was kind of Zayn's own fault for letting Louis schedule his own hours), he settled back into his cushions and started typing again. Some things just had priority.

 

*

 

The bar was loud and packed when Louis entered. His friends had decided that Louis had been too focused on his work – not exactly true, but also not exactly wrong – during the past few weeks and that he needed to have a few drinks with them to “loosen up”.

“Louis, you made it!” Niall cheered when he got to their table. Liam was already there, looking searchingly behind Louis. “Didn't you say you were gonna bring Zayn? Are you hiding him somewhere?”

“He told me he needed a good disguise because his fans are annoying and that he was gonna meet us here,” Louis answered.

At that moment, someone in a dark coat and a ridiculously big hat slid into the booth next to them. Louis snorted. “Hi Zayn, so glad you could make it.”

“Shut up,” Zayn muttered. “I love my fans, okay, but some of them are fucking crazy. Did you know that they have stalker accounts dedicated to finding out where I am?!”

Louis did in fact know that, not only because he was the one dealing with them on Twitter most of the time, but also because Harry had a few of them as well. He wasn't openly complaining about it – always the nice and diplomatic soul – but Louis knew they were getting to him. The fact that he was able to decipher Harry's feelings about the topic from the tone of his texts by now, filled him with uneasiness.

“All the more reason to get drunk tonight,” Niall decided and ordered them a round of shots. Louis couldn't agree more.

 

Really soon, Louis realized that getting him drunk apparently wasn't the only plan tonight, because Liam kept making comments about attractive guys in their vicinity while Niall wiggled his eyebrows and Zayn nodded approvingly. Which would be fine, except for the fact that the last time Louis checked, Liam wasn't interested in guys at all and they were clearly trying to set him up.

After the sixth, “Look at his biceps, I'm just saying, he seems like he works out on the regular,” Louis couldn't take it any more.

“Do you want to get rid of me or something, I don't wanna hook up with someone in here!” he said so loud that at least half of the people close to him turned to stare at him (some even looked a bit offended that Louis apparently didn't want to sleep with them).

They weren't the only ones. Zayn, Liam and Niall all looked shocked, Niall's jaw was even hanging open.

“I'm sorry,” Liam started, “but did you just say that you, Louis Tomlinson, aren't interested in casual sex with a stranger, in this bar, obviously filled with attractive guys?”

“Not everyone always wants to have sex, Liam, get your mind out of the gutter,” Louis grumbled.

“No,” Zayn began carefully, “but out of all the times we went to a bar on a weekend, I can only remember two times where you didn't pull. One time there were literally no gay guys around, because Niall made a horrible bar choice, and the other one was because you got food poisoning. Do you have food poisoning right now, Louis?” He was actually looking concerned.

Louis just rolled his eyes at him and decided not to dignify that with a response. So what, maybe he wasn't in the mood for sex with a random stranger tonight. That wasn't a crime.

“Oh my god,” Niall exclaimed suddenly. “I know what's going on!” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Louis is in love.”

Louis spit his drink over the table and then started to cough. “I'm... what, no, I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Aww,” Zayn cooed. “Is that why you've been so horrible at your job lately, that's adorable. It's okay, I forgive you.”

Louis sputtered. “First of all, I was not horrible at my job. I'm never horrible at my job. You were on time to almost every single meeting -” (“Yeah, with emphasis on _almost_ ,” he could hear Zayn mutter) “- and your Tweet about the footie game yesterday got almost seventy thousand retweets.

And also, I don't know what you're talking about, I'm not in love. I'm not the type of person to fall in love, I enjoy my freedom. You know that. I'm not in love. I'm not.”

“Oookay,” Niall drawled, clearly not believing him. “That sounded way too defensive, but I'm gonna let it slide, because I honestly can't deal with your love life right now, when I've got enough problems in my own. Did you know -” With that he started on a rant about the argument he had with his girlfriend yesterday. His model girlfriend, that he'd met through Zayn and whose relationship didn't start off by her assuming that Niall was actually someone else. Life wasn't fair.

Louis stopped paying attention to the conversation in favor of doodling something on the table.

He almost wanted to take a picture of the swimming pool he drew and send it to Harry with the words **look, a pool table** attached, but then he remembered that it was a horrible pun and that as a friend, who definitely wasn't in love with him, he should make fun of Harry's horrible puns and not encourage them. Because he wasn't. In love, that is. Because that would be ridiculous.

They'd never even met, Harry thought he was a completely different person and would, under normal circumstances, be definitely out of Louis' league.

Louis reached for another shot. He definitely deserved to get drunk tonight.

 

*

 

In the morning, he regretted his decision. Not just the decision to get drunk, every single decision that led him to this point, starting with the day he decided to start a Twitter fight with Harry fucking Styles.

It was another studio day, so Louis had to drag himself out of bed and make himself look presentable. After contemplating it for a short moment, he decided that he definitely didn't have the energy or the proper motivation to wear jeans today. He could write in joggers, it wasn't as if Zayn was going to fire him for showing up looking like a hobo.

Still, when he entered the building, Liam, who was producing Zayn's music and dealt with all the complicated stuff regarding the label, fixed him with a judging stare. Sometimes Louis hated working with his friends.

“What,” Louis snapped at him. Liam's expression immediately got softer. “Tommo, are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine, just hungover.” Louis tried to brush past him, but Liam stopped him. “Wait, we need to talk about which songs are going to go on the album. More importantly, who we're going to have to pay money for writing the songs.”

“Me, just pay me all the money and call it a day,” Louis answered grumpily, not in the mood to discuss this right now. Not that he'd ever be in the mood to discuss it at all, considering the confession he still had to make about who wrote one of the songs in particular.

Liam laughed, but still made Louis go into his office and go over the writing credits for every single song.

“This one was written by Julian, John and Jamie, right? And this one was you and Julian, this one was-” Liam mumbled more to himself than to Louis, completely focused on making his list.

Louis fidgeted in his chair. At this point, he couldn't put it off any longer.

“Liam. I need you to put Harry Styles in the writing credits for Stockholm Syndrome.”

Liam looked up from the notes he was reading through. “What?”

Louis didn't answer.

“What,” he repeated. “Louis, when did you work with Harry Styles? Does Zayn know about this? We didn't talk about this, why don't I know about this?” His voice was getting more frantic towards the end of his sentence.

“It was, like, a spontaneous thing.”

“Does he want a lot of money for this?” Liam asked, incredulous.

“No,” Louis mumbled. “No, I don't think so, we haven't talked about that.”

“You haven't... talked... about that?!” Liam sounded seconds away from whacking Louis over the head with the folder of notes in front of him. “You get a brand new pop sensation with no real writing experience to help you with a song and you don't think about negotiating a contract with his manager beforehand?”

“It's not... it wasn't like that.”

“Then what was it like?” Liam looked like he was barely keeping his calm. Louis knew that it was easy to rile him up for fun, but he had never seen him get actually mad when it came to serious stuff.

Louis opened his texts with Harry on his phone, the last conversation a discussion about the best hangover cures and Louis turning up to work in joggers. Harry had responded with a selfie of himself in a full designer outfit, capturing it _wish i could get away with sweatpants._

Louis' answer consisted of several emojis, that could be interpreted in one way or the other, but from the way Liam's eyes widened while peeking over his shoulder, he was guessing Liam chose to read the dirty subtext behind them.

Louis scrolled up to the night where they were writing Stockholm Syndrome and handed Liam the phone without comment.

Liam's face was unreadable as he skipped through the conversation silently, only looking up at Louis when he got to the end.

“Why do you even have Harry Styles' phone number. And why are the messages not stopping when I scroll up.”

And then, because Louis clearly had done something horrible in a past life to deserve this, at that exact moment, his phone vibrated with a new message. “Louis. Why is he calling you Zayn.”

Louis resisted the urge to just put his head in his hands and cry. Instead, he tried to explain the story as best as he could, getting quieter with each word. He knew he had fucked up. He knew. Liam didn't have to tell him.

 

Liam was silent for a while after he had finished.

“Louis, what the hell are you doing?” Liam didn't simply sound shocked, he sounded horrified.

“I -” Louis started, ready to defend himself, but suddenly all the excuses he'd conjured up in his head over the past few weeks seemed ridiculous and not nearly enough to justify his behaviour.

“I don't know,” he whispered. Suddenly it was hard to breathe. He was a terrible person. Harry would probably hate him when he found out. He just couldn't – he couldn't breathe.

It was hard to form words, and distinctly he was aware of the fact that he was shaking and that Liam was trying to talk to him, but he couldn't hear him, every sound around him fading to a buzzing. The only thing he could think about was not getting enough air. He couldn't fucking breathe, why couldn't he breathe. There was this overwhelming feeling of _I need to get out of here_ but he couldn't make out his surroundings clearly enough, didn't even know if he could move right now. Didn't even know where he wanted to go, but the urge to run away still stayed. He tried to put his arms around himself, to stay grounded. There still wasn't enough air.

 

Maybe minutes had passed, maybe only seconds. Maybe hours.

“Louis, fuck, talk to me.” Louis had never heard Liam sound so desperate before.

“I'm fine,” he croaked out. Distinctly, he was aware that his cheeks were wet. The overwhelming nauseousness dissipated slowly, but his mouth still tasted like acid. “I'm sorry,” Louis felt the inexplicable urge to say. Liam didn't react, just kept looking at him, wide-eyed.

He looked a little less frantic now that Louis was talking, but still so worried that Louis promptly began to feel guilty again.

“I think you just had a panic attack. Does this happen often?”

“No, I,” Louis shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. “When I was younger. I used to have them when I was younger sometimes.”

Liam just handed him a bottle of water. “I think you need to talk to someone about that,” he said, not looking at Louis.

Louis tried to laugh. “Liam, it was nothing, okay? It happened one time. I'm fine.”

“You're clearly not fine, don't even try that with me, seconds after you literally had a panic attack. I know what they look like, my sister used to have them. If you don't want to talk to a professional, you should at least try to find out what's causing them. And, like, I'd have to be an idiot to not know what's causing them right now.”

Louis didn't answer, playing with the lable on the water bottle.

“I don't know what happened to you that made you afraid of any real relationship you could ever have, but I don't think you can go on like that.”

“Nothing happened to me,” Louis shot back. “Don't talk about stuff you don't know anything about.”

Liam raised his hands in what Louis assumed was suppoed to be a placating gesture.

“Louis, maybe you think that Harry is a safe option, that he can't really hurt you, because if he does, it's Zayn's problem, not yours, right?”

Louis just stared at him mutely.

Liam sighed. “You know that's bullshit, right? It's you who's falling in love with him. You're the one that's gonna get hurt here, no matter what. There is no safe way to fall in love, Louis. It just doesn't exist.” Louis hadn't even mentioned the word love when he'd told Liam what had happened between him and Harry, but he must have figured it out anyway.

“I don't want to talk about this anymore,” Louis answered quietly.

“I know you don't. But you can't run away from this forever, Louis, you know that. One day you're gonna have to talk to someone. If not me, then talk to Harry.”

Louis didn't answer. Liam sighed again, then he hugged Louis, probably harder than necessary. “You know I'm here if you need anything,” he said. With that he left.

 

*

 

Louis knew it wasn't the nicest or healthiest thing to do, but the easiest way out of this situation seemed to be cutting Harry out of his life.

He started to ignore his texts, and only clicked on the cute animal videos – that Harry was still sending him after two days of radio silence – when he was absolutely desperate. _I just need to hear his voice_ , Louis found himself thinking. Which was ridiculous, because they had never actually _talked_ , but watching Youtube videos of him just wasn't cutting it anymore. He missed Harry's texts, missed his silly emojis and his stupid knock-knock jokes.

And Louis knew that it sounded silly, but he also missed the actual emotional connection they had. Despite the fact that Louis was pretending to be someone else, he had opened up to Harry in a lot of ways and he felt like they understood each other.

Whatever, it was better this way. Harry certainly didn't need someone who used him to unload his emotional baggage while lying to him about his identity at the same time.

 

Harry stopped trying to reach Louis after three days. At first his messages had been worried, but Louis knew that Harry could see that he had read the texts and was choosing not to respond to them. Also, Zayn was getting papped daily, Harry clearly knew that he hadn't died.

 

 _i hope you're okay. sorry if i've done something to make you pull away. x_ , was the last text he got on day four. Louis could almost physically feel his heartstrings snap.

 _It was the right thing to do_ , Louis told himself, again and again. He hoped he'd start to believe it soon.

 

*

 

When Louis had been a few months old, his biological father had left him. Louis was too young to remember him, but his mum told him about it, later, and Louis knew. He knew that one day he had a father and the next day he decided that Louis wasn't good enough for him and then he didn't have one anymore. Just like that.

 

When Louis was thirteen, his second dad left him.

The first thing he heard was the fighting. Later, his mum crying, watching how she had to pick up the pieces bit by bit. That's what love was, he learned. That's how it worked. You love someone with all you have and then they leave you.

The panic attacks went away again after a few months. Louis' mum didn't find out about them. Louis was fine.

 

There were a bunch of awkward experiences with girls and fumblings with boys before Louis realized that he couldn't run from the fact that he was gay.

The boy he kissed once behind the gym of his school told the entire football team after. That was okay, though, Louis was growing tired of playing football anyway. He still wasn't sure if his dad had found out about it before he left them.

There were more boys, after that, but Louis didn't let many of them close enough to hurt him.

Until there was one who managed to.

In college, whenever Louis was asked what he was studying, he would reply, “Something media related”. It wasn't technically a lie, despite the fact that the following sentence should have been “I'm counting on the fact that my mate Zayn is gonna make it big as a singer and keep me as his manager, because otherwise I have no fucking clue”.

Louis fell in love with the first guy that actually stayed around long enough to find out the second part of the sentence, long enough to find out that Louis had no idea what he was doing with his life. Lucas had been nice and pretty and good in bed, but somehow Louis had missed the fact that he was a giant asshole and cheating on him throughout their college years.

He never told the other guys about the fact, that in Louis' head, there had been thoughts about shared flats and engagements and forever. It was best to leave some things unspoken.

There hadn't been another boyfriend after that.

 

*

 

“You're coming out with us today, you look like shit,” Niall announced, wrinkling his nose as he walked into Louis' bedroom and pulled the curtains open. Louis should stop handing out spare keys to his friends and then forget to demand them back.

“Okay, change of plans, shower first. I'm gonna clean up this mess in the meantime,” he gestured to the half eaten ice cream cartons and pizza crumbs that were strewn across the room.

“Oh, you also didn't bring in your mail, it looks like someone emptied their trash can in front of your mailbox, seriously.” Niall threw a few newspapers at Louis, supposedly to emphasize his point.

Louis caught one of them, a gossip magazine that he was only subscribed to because of his job and because he liked to judge celebrities' outfits.

When he glanced at the cover for a short moment, he almost dropped it again. There was Harry, a pretty blonde girl on his arm.

“HARRY STYLES AND PAIGE REIFLER – Has Britain's sweetheart found love?” the headline read.

Transfixed, Louis opened the magazine. Inside were a lot of pictures of Harry and the model; first, a line of high quality shots of them going grocery shopping, holding hands the whole time and then, a grainy picture of what looked like them kissing. Louis could make out a few of Harry's tattoos, so it was definitely him. It felt like he couldn't breathe again, but this time, it was not the telltale sign of a beginning panic attack, but a crushing sadness that made his lungs feel like they had to work ten times harder to expand against it.

He knew that he had no right to feel any sort of jealousy or possessiveness over Harry, but it still hurt. This, in front of him, was proof that Harry never felt anything besides friendship for him (or Zayn, who could tell) at all and that Louis was the only one stupid enough to mistake a few fun texts for a romantic connection.

The text underneath the pictures informed him that they were recent, but not that recent, so it didn't even have anything to do with Louis stopping all contact between them. He had been seeing her the whole time. Fuck.

“Niall,” Louis looked up at his concerned friend. “Is the plan for tonight to get really, really drunk?”

Niall grinned. “Well, now it definitely is.”

 

*

 

After two beers and staring at his phone for the entire time it took Louis to empty them, he finally caved and unlocked it.

 **who is she** , Louis texted. Harry would know what he meant. Then he put his phone on silent and ordered another drink.  
“Oh, who's Harry? He the reason why you didn't leave your bed for a week?” Niall just sounded curious, but Louis couldn't help but feel panicky again, like Niall had already caught him doing something wrong.

“No one,” Louis said in a flat tone. “Not important. Not anymore, I guess.”

Niall looked a bit surprised. “Tommo, do you know how many times you were moping because of a guy since I have known you?”

Louis shook his head.

“Never. The answer is never. The fact that you're actually sad right now tells me he's very, very important.”

“Niall, can you just get me drunk please?” Louis whined, letting his head fall onto Niall's shoulder.

“Of course, Lou,” he answered, patting Louis' hair. Then he ordered another pint.

 

The place they were in was not quite a club, but it wasn't _not_ a club either. There was dancing, the music was loud and the place was packed, which meant it felt like a club.

Louis wasn't quite drunk yet but he felt the alcohol like a light buzzing running through his system, enough to dull the pain from earlier.

Now, he just needed – there. Perfect. A man was eyeing Louis across the room, shamelessly letting his eyes wander across his body. Louis sat up a little straighter and tried to subtly lean against the bar in a seductive way. He could see Niall laughing at him from the corner of his eyes and tried to give him the finger without changing his position. Flirting with someone across the room was an artform that Niall clearly didn't understand.

Clearly it was working though, because the man didn't take long to make his way over to them and ask Louis to dance.

He wasn't his usual type, too blond, too bulky, but since all Louis wanted right now was a sloppy blowjob in the bathroom, he would do.

The guy's dancing was, like his looks, mediocre at best, but Louis just started to shamelessly grind against him, not giving him the opportunity to screw up much.

He didn't seem opposed to Louis dragging him off to the toilets half an hour later, which meant Louis' plan was working perfectly and yet-

Sex in bathrooms was always the same, sometimes better, sometimes worse, but Louis had done it enough times that he knew his way around. And he knew that normally, even if the guy wasn't ideal, at this point he'd be eager and excited to pull him into one of the stalls, depending on how long ago his latest hook up had been. This time it had been months, but Louis didn't feel aroused at the thought of giving or even getting a blowjob right now. Not from this guy anyway. There was only one person Louis wanted to hook up with right now and no matter how much he wanted to tell himself that he just needed to get laid by some random guy and all of this was just due to his sexual frustration, right now, in this moment, he couldn't deny it anymore.

Louis sighed and pushed the guy away with a mumbled apology before getting out of the bathroom and trying to find his way back to Niall.

 

When he reached the bar again, Niall took one look at him before pushing another shot towards him. “You don't look like you just got off, I'm just saying,” he commented dryly.

Louis fixed him with a look, then he just downed the shot without answering.

“That bad?” Niall chuckled.

“Yeah,” Louis mumbled. His hand twitched beside him, itching to reach for his phone. As much as he tried to tell himself that he didn't care what Harry had replied to his text, his failed hook up had kind of just proven the opposite.

“Niall, I think I'm gonna go home,” he told him. He was aware that he was being a shitty friend tonight, but Niall just smiled at him and patted him on the back. Louis made a mental note to himself to make it up to him the next time they went out.

 

As soon as he stepped out out of the club, the cold air biting around him, he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He stared at the dark screen for a moment, before finally gathering the courage to unlock it.

Harry had answered his text about the mystery girl.

  
_y do u carw. igniredd me fr a weekk._

 

Okay, he was drunk. Louis was a pro at talking to drunk people, even if he himself felt annoyingly sober right now, the few drinks from a few hours ago not doing much anymore.

  
**i just do. please harry. please just tell me.**

  
Louis had no idea if his desperation was too obvious, but a minute later, there was an answer.

  
_promo. she ws jus promu, I prmise._

 

Louis exhaled, and then-

  
_'m gay._

  
Oh.

 

_don't kno whi I'm tellin u tgis. not spposed to tll ppl. sorry, m drunk_

 

No kidding. Louis stared at his phone, daring it to light up again. A few seconds later, it did.

 

_you can't prov it s tru anyway. bt pls dont trll anvonw_

 

**it's okay, harry. i'm very sorry for ignoring you. it won't happen again. i promise.**

 

_u re jus sayin tht. It s ok that u dont like me i swear. It's just_

 

There wasn't a message for about 30 seconds, and then-

 

_I migh bee n love with u, but it s ok if u aren't it's stupid anyway_

_gonna go slep no w_

_love oyu_

 

Louis stared at his phone. Warmth was flooding his whole body, only to be replaced with a feeling of cold dread moments later. Even if Harry was telling the truth, even if he was actually in love, it still wasn't him. He was in love with Zayn.

Despite knowing that, Louis couldn't help the fact that the only sentence in his head right now was, _He loves me back_.

The irony that the moment he finally admitted to himself that he was in love with Harry was simultaneously the moment he let go of the last desperate hope for them to possibly be together, wasn't lost on him.

 

*

 

Life kind of went on after that. Louis wasn't actively ignoring Harry anymore, but things weren't back to normal yet either.

Both of them were awkwardly talking around the subject of their feelings for each other and Harry's drunken confession was never brought up again, despite the fact that Louis had taken several screenshots that he liked to read over and over, almost obsessively.

It still felt good to talk to Harry, despite everything.

Even though they hadn't mentioned his love confession, Louis made sure to tell him that he was glad Harry had told him about his sexuality and that he could always talk to him.

 

 _because you're bi yourself, right?_ had been Harry's answer.

No. Louis was gay. Zayn was bi.

 **yeah** he texted back. Maybe it wasn't a big lie, compared to everything else Louis had already lied about, but that one reminded him of telling his dad that, yeah, of course he still liked girls too, reminded him of telling the truth, but not quite, of not being himself because it seemed easier at the time.

 

_thank you for being so nice about this_

_don't get me wrong, i've been okay with my sexuality for a long time, i just don't know how to deal with it in this business_

_being closeted again is hard_

_but you make everything easier_

_seriously, thank you_

 

Louis stared at the words on the screen. Somehow, over the last few months, he'd given Harry the impression that he was a kind and honest person. Someone who was worthy of Harry's love.

And even though it was incredibly selfish, Louis wanted to have that love for just a little while longer.

 

*

 

Louis would have probably been fine with just existing in that limbo for the rest of his life, but he hadn't factored in that Zayn was literally in the same industry as Harry and sometimes that industry got together in one place. Like at the BRIT awards.

Zayn was nominated for three, so Louis didn't even try to talk him out of going. (Also because his job was literally talking Zayn _into_ going to events, not out of it.)

Normally he begged out of accompanying Zayn to any sort of event that wasn't the Grammys, but there was no question that he had to go this time. The thought of Harry and Zayn meeting was enough of a nightmare on his own, having it happen while Louis was hiding at home was simply not possible.

While he read through a funny story of Harry meeting a fan whose dog had almost attacked him today, he tried to come to terms with the fact that he wouldn't get this – Harry telling him about his day, open and trusting – for much longer.

It was too hard to think about.

 

The cameras were too bright, flashes going off everywhere around him, people yelling different names all at the same time. Zayn was walking the red carpet, while Louis was standing near the entrance of the arena and trying to fight a headache. It was too loud, too flashy, too many fake smiles. Louis hated this industry. Sometimes, when, in his wildest dreams, he dreamt of being a singer himself, he always paused at this point. Did he really want to be the person getting yelled at while walking the red carpet, being stalked by crazy fans and not being able to have a shred of privacy?

Talking about being stalked, Louis was very certain that Harry Styles had just arrived at the red carpet, judging by the amount of fans that suddenly started screaming his name. Zayn wasn't even close to reaching Louis yet, so Louis started to move closer to him, panicking. He couldn't let them meet.

Harry seemed to forego every proper red carpet etiquette, because he was making his way over to Zayn as soon as he spotted him, way faster than Louis was at the moment.

When Louis finally reached him, almost at the same time as Harry, he was out of breath, his hands clammy and his throat closing up.

Despite the situation, he couldn't help noticing that Harry looked beautiful. He was wearing a Gucci suit, a black and white floral pattern that would have looked ridiculous on anyone else, but that Harry could pull off. He tried to find something to say, something to make this situation not horrible for everyone involved, but-

The thing was, Harry wasn't looking at him. He was openly staring at Zayn, his expression admiring, but also with lingering uncertainty, like he couldn't quite figure out how to combine the person he wrote to over the past few weeks with the one that was standing right in front of him.

 _I'm right here_ , Louis wanted to scream. _I'm right here, just look at me, just for one second._

Of course, Harry didn't look at him. He seemed to shake his confusion, and smiled at Zayn, bright and confident. “Hi, it's amazing to finally meet you.”

Louis felt a pang in his chest, because his voice sounded awed and soft and like Harry reserved a special tone just for this. And it hurt, because he shouldn't use that tone for Zayn. It wasn't fair.

“Zayn, we need to go, I'm sorry, someone over there really wants to meet you,” Louis rushed out, grabbed Zayn's arm and yanked him away from Harry, probably with more force than necessary.

Harry just stared after them, confused and _hurt_. Something dark creeped at Louis, knowing that he was the reason for that hurt.

Zayn put a hand on his arm. “Louis, what's going on, who wants to -”

“Listen,” Louis cut him off. “You can't talk to Harry Styles.”

Zayn raised his eyebrows. “And why the fuck not? I thought you had fixed that whole Twitter fight business?”

Louis stayed silent. Zayn leveled him with a stare. If there was one thing he was good at, then it was staring at Louis until he broke.

“Fine, okay!” Louis yelled. “YouandHarryhavebeensortofexchangingTwittermessagesforthepastmonths.” Well, technically they had moved to text after the first week, but that was hardly important information right now.

“We have been what? Why?” Zayn gaped at him.

“Look, that's not important right now,” Louis answered with a wave of his hand. “What's important is that you kind of have to avoid him – and by that I mean hide from him – for the rest of the night, because he only needs to hear like, three sentences out of your mouth before he figures out that you weren't the one texting him.”

Zayn was shocked into silence for a bit, opening and closing his mouth a few times, but ending up not saying anything. (If Louis weren't on the edge of a nervous break-down, he might find it hilarious.)

“Just, please,” Louis sighed, not really willing to offer a full explanation right now.

Zayn sighed, fixed Louis with a _we're talking about this later don't think you're getting out of this_ -look, nodded and went towards the entrance of the actual award show, without even casting a look back at Harry.

Louis however, turned around just before they rounded the corner. It was a mistake – of course it was – because Harry looked like he was on the verge of tears, looking lost standing in the middle of the red carpet. Louis bit his lip so hard he could taste blood and kept walking.

 

*

 

Louis just wanted to get out. When he first started working for Zayn, he had thought afterparties were the most amazing thing. Famous people everywhere you looked, free drinks, loud music. It took a while before Louis realized that just watching his idols take a mix of different drugs really took the fun out of it.

Right now, the air in there was hot and humid, everyone was dancing and having fun (or pretending to have fun) and everywhere Louis looked, there were green eyes and brown curls and he didn't know when his harmless crush on teen popstar Harry Styles had turned into this. He wanted to forget everything about the past month, but in here, he couldn't run from him.

So Louis escaped through the backdoor to have a quick smoke and – No. Clearly, this was Karma. Louis must have done something horrible in his past life, because right there, next to the wall, sat none other than Harry Styles.

“What the fuck are you doing out here?” If Louis were more sober right now, he might have considered a different approach to this situation. It was only a split second later that he realized that to Harry, he was a stranger, the guy who had stood next to Zayn for a few seconds earlier, and that the angry, hurtful tone of his voice sounded far too intimate for talking to a stranger.

When Harry looked up, Louis' heart contracted painfully in his chest. He looked sad and in pain, like someone had just kicked his puppy.

Or like the person he'd been texting for a month just ignored him for a whole night. Louis was such an ass.

Harry seemed to get over the rude introduction rather quickly.

“Oh, nothing. There's just this guy who I thought I was – you know what, it doesn't matter now. I'm just gonna keep sitting out here if that's alright with you.” His words were slow (but Louis knew from interviews that wasn't unusual) and just a tiny bit slurred, the only indication that Louis wasn't the only one a bit intoxicated right now. Also, he clearly didn't recognize Louis as Zayn's friend from earlier or he would have probably said something by now.

“He's a dick,” Louis said without preamble and let himself sink down next to Harry, their backs to the wall. He pulled his legs in front of his chest.

“Huh?” Harry answered, seemingly confused that Louis had decided to sit down.

“The guy you were talking about. He's a dick. I know these things.”

“No,” Harry immediately began to shake his head, before pausing. “Well, at least I thought he wasn't. But now I'm not sure I guess.”

“Well, if he treated a guy like you wrong, then he's a dick. I bet he knows that, though, if it makes you feel better.”

Harry let out a tiny laugh at that. “You don't even know me. I might have deserved it.”

“You didn't,” Louis answered without offering an explanation. “Like I said. I know these things.”

“Okay,” Harry grinned at him. It didn't quite reach his eyes yet but just the thought that he had managed to make him smile sent a shivery feeling through Louis' body.

“Did you know,” Louis started in an attempt to change the subject, “that dolphins can sleep with one half of their brain and stay awake with the other one?” It was weird how it was as easy to talk to Harry as always, even now, in person.

“Yes,” Harry giggled. “That's one of the most popular fun facts ever. Everyone knows that one.”

Then he sobered up again. “What's your name?”

Louis almost flinched at the question. The person he was in love with and who'd admitted to loving him back in a drunken text once, was sitting in front of him and didn't even know his name. “Louis,” he answered, a beat too late, and probably sounding too choked up for such a simple question.

Harry – lovely, _kind_ Harry – pretended like he hadn't just acted super weird and smiled, “I'm Harry,” back at him.

“I know,” Louis answered before he could think it through.

“Oh.” If possible Harry's smile just got wider. “So you've listened to my music? Do you like it?”

 _You don't even like it yourself_ , Louis wanted to answer, feeling the desperate need to be honest now that Harry was sitting in front of him.

“Yeah, was nice. Not really you though, I think.” He picked at his shoelaces to have an excuse not to look at Harry.

“How would you know?” Harry said. He didn't sound angry, just confused, so Louis looked up again. “Is it because you just 'know these things' again?” He was smiling. Louis was in love with him.

“Yeah,” Louis breathed out in relief. “That's why. You just don't seem like the type of person to write a whole album about pining for your one true love. People would write these albums about you.”

Harry let out a dry chuckle. “Didn't we just establish that I basically got ignored by a guy I liked tonight?” The implication of this only now seemed to hit him. He sighed. “I should probably make you sign an NDA now. My PR guy would have a fit if he knew how often I talk about my sexuality without thinking about it.”

“I'm not gonna tell anyone,” Louis answered sincerely, deliberately ignoring the first part of Harry's sentence. They had already established that he was a huge dick, no need to drag it out.

“You seem nice, Louis,” Harry sighed, not sounding happy about it. “I wish I could fall for a nice guy like you. You would never talk to someone for months and then ignore them when you met them in person, would you?”

 

Louis wanted to cry really, really badly right now. Instead of speaking, he just took Harry's hand and silently shook his head. He wasn't actually drunk right now, he'd consumed just enough alcohol to lower his inhibitions the slightest bit. Which explained why he didn't do anything to escape the situation when Harry looked up from their joined hands, wide-eyed. Then, his gaze flickered to his lips.

The air felt charged between them, so charged that Louis was almost afraid to breathe. Harry had always been like a magnet for Louis, but now, in person, there was no chance he could resist that pull. He didn't even want to try, despite the _wrongwrongwrong_ voice in the back of his head.

Harry was close, so close, and Louis didn't know what would happen if he kissed him right now, didn't know what the fallout would be or how he would be able to live with himself after he did that, he just knew it was way too late for him to say no, he was already in to deep and-

 

“Sorry,” Harry said just before Louis could give in and close that extra inch between them. “Sorry, I'm just, I don't know what I'm doing, I'm just very... confused,” he settled on.

Louis was torn between wanting to apologize a million times and admitting that it was all his fault or grabbing Harry by the shoulders and shaking him until he realized who was sitting in front of him. In the end he did neither of those things and nodded his head a bit, his nose still dangerously close to Harry's.

“It's okay,” Louis slowly breathed, neither of them moving for another moment. Harry, despite stopping him, didn't seem to have enough willpower to do it a second time and Louis was sure if he was just a random stranger at a party, he could have convinced him to kiss him, maybe even come home with him, right now.

But he wasn't. And the reason Harry was hesistating was probably Louis himself. Well, Zayn. This was all so twisted up and complicated, and Louis was just so so _tired_.

“Harry,” he murmured, reluctantly putting more space between them and leaning back against the wall again, “I have to tell you something.”

“Okay?” Harry turned to him. His eyes were wide, a startling green and so trusting. Louis hated himself for having to hurt him right now.

“I'm sorry Zayn didn't talk to you earlier. That was my fault.”

“What?” Harry shook his head. “No, I didn't even tell you who I was sad about.”

Louis could feel his eyes burn. This was so hard. “No. You didn't. I was the person standing next to Zayn, who pushed him away. Because I knew that Zayn has no clue who you are. Well, apart from the fact that you've won the X-Factor last year.”

Harry let out a disbelieving laugh. “Listen, I know I'm not as famous as him, but he knows who I am, we talked for a month. You're working for him? He never-” Harry's voice was shaking a bit now. “He never mentioned me? Not even that he was texting someone?”

Louis could see Harry's heart break in front of him. And even though this was the worst thing he ever had to do, he had to let him know that it wasn't his fault, had to let him know that the only person who'd fucked up here had been Louis.

“No, it's,” Louis sucked in a harsh breath. “It's me. It wasn't Zayn. I'm managing his Social Media accounts.” Harry blinked a few times, clearly not understanding yet.

“I was the one who wrote that Tweet from his account. And then I felt guilty and messaged you. And didn't stop messaging you after that. I'm so sorry.”

Louis didn't have a speech prepared. There wasn't a simple explanation for what he had done and even if there was, the only words running through his mind on a loop at the moment were _sorry sorry sorry sorry_.  
Harry didn't say anything, he just stared at him, hurt and betrayal flickering over his face. Louis felt like he was crumbling into pieces, like he was barely holding himself together.  
“'m sorry,” Louis tried to reach out for him again, but Harry physically flinched away from him. The dark feeling in Louis' chest felt like it might swallow him whole as he let his arms fall uselessly to his sides again. “Haz,” he tried weakly. The nickname probably made the whole thing even creepier to Harry, but Louis couldn't help himself.

Harry just scrambled up from his position next to Louis on the ground. “I gotta go,” he choked out, and, with one last wide eyed look at Louis, he turned around and left.

Louis wondered if anyone else could hear the loud crack his heart made as it broke.

 

*

 

“Louis, get out of bed.” From the mountain of blankets Louis was buried underneath, he couldn't distinguish whose voice it was, but since he still had all of his covers, he guessed it wasn't Niall this time.  
“No. I'm comfy.”  
“Oh really? You're comfortable lying in your dirty and sweaty sheets, while not getting any oxygen because you haven't opened a window for a week?”  
“Yes.”

“Niall told me you already pulled the same shit a few weeks ago when you told me you had the flu.” Definitely Zayn then.

Louis made a non-committal noise from underneath his blankets.  
“Louis, you can't go on like this. Don't you have a job to do?”

Louis groaned. “Fire me, I don't care. I hate my job anyway.”  
“You don't mean that.” He didn't. Most of the time.  
“So, what do you expect to happen, hiding in here? Harry is certainly not gonna suddenly show up.”

So Zayn knew then. Louis should have known that calling Liam drunk and heartbroken and telling him about that night's events had been a mistake.  
“I know. He won't anyway 'cause he hates me.”  
Zayn pulled his blanket far enough away to slap him.

“Ow,” Louis opened his eyes in shock, sat up and rubbed his cheek. “What did you do that for, am I not in enough pain already?”  
Zayn decided to ignore his question. “Liam told me what happened and I decided to forgive you for impersonating me, because I think you've been punished enough. Now, get out of bed and apologize to Harry. You have to make the first move here you idiot.”  
Louis didn't react except by borrowing his face into the pillow again.  
“Louis.” There was some rustling and Louis could feel the bed dip next to him where Zayn sat down. His voice was softer now. “I know you fucked up. We both do. But I have never seen you like this over a guy. Never.” Funny, Niall had said the exact same thing. Louis shuffled a bit closer to Zayn, silently seeking comfort. He was pretty sure he wouldn't get slapped again, Zayn wasn't usually the violent type.  
“You wanna know something else?”

Louis attempted to shake his head but Zayn seemed to interpret the slight sheet movement as a yes.  
“I have never seen you as happy as you were in the last few weeks either. I don't want you to lose that over a stupid mistake.”

Louis didn't answer and eventually Zayn dropped the subject and pulled up the 'romantic comedies' category on Netflix. Maybe Louis hadn't gone totally wrong with his choice in friends.

 

*

 

**please call me**

**i know i fucked up**

**i should have told you that i wasn't zayn**

**i can understand if you never want to talk to me ever again, but please just let me explain**

**after that you can walk away and i will never contact you again, i promise**

 

He didn't get a reply. Not that he actually expected one, not even when he'd finally gathered the courage to pick up the phone and talk to Harry, but it had hurt anyway when it went straight to voicemail.

Louis had decided it was time to pull himself together again and take Zayn's advice.

That was why he had sent Harry those messages and was now on the way to the studio. If this whole mess was good for anything, it was that it had given Louis lots of inspiration for songs.

 

Writing songs about his own personal pain felt weird. Louis had always drawn some inspiration from his own experiences, but he'd added a lot of fiction most of the time. His job as a writer was to tell a story, laced with feelings. Usually it wasn't his own, but this time, he felt like all of his raw emotions had gone into the song in front of him.

Julian raised his eyebrows at him as he read over the lyrics. “I was thinking of calling it _Something Great_ ,” Louis said tentatively.

“It's nice,” Julian started. “But it's not very Zayn, is it?”

“Oh.” Louis stared down at the song again.

“No, no,” Julian hurried to explain. “It's maybe one of the best songs you've ever written. But Louis, have you ever thought about singing it yourself? I bet Zayn's label would produce an album with songs like these in a heartbeat if you asked.” He didn't wait for Louis to answer, crossing the room to continue working on his own song again. Louis stared at his retreating form, dumbfonded.

It wasn't the first time he had thought about doing something on his own, but it never felt like a real possibility, he had never actually considered it, but now-

 

Louis thought about what Harry said about his voice. For him, it might have been a throwaway comment about some random stranger, but his opinion was actually important to Louis. He trusted that opinion.

And it wasn't the only time Harry had encouraged him. Even though he'd never explicitly said so – probably because he didn't know that being an R&B star wasn't actually Louis' job – everything Harry had said had implied that he believed in Louis and believed in what he could do. And maybe it was stupid of Louis to hang onto that; after all, who wouldn't believe that superstar Zayn Malik could do anything he wanted to, but somehow he couldn't help but believe that Harry had said it to him. As a person. Not the superstar personality he'd seen on tv a few times.

 

Louis thought about how unhappy he'd been with his job these last few months, pushing Zayn's stuff away to text Harry or procrastinate and generally being shit at his job. Zayn deserved someone who wanted this, who was doing it because he was good at it, not because he didn't have an alternative and felt obligated to his best friend.

 

“I quit my job,” he announced to the studio at large half an hour and three cigarettes later. Three studio guys, including Julian with a proud twinkle in eyes, and Zayn were staring at him. “Not writing,” he clarified. The other guys turned away again.

Louis looked at Zayn and lowered his voice. “Zayn, I'm so sorry. I know that I promised we'd be in this together when we first started back in uni, but I don't think I can do this anymore. I know you're the best boss I could ever wish for and it's fun most of the time, but it's just not what I want anymore, I-” Suddenly he was scared to say it out loud. The words _I want to be a singer_ would sound silly coming out of his mouth, like a dream he should have already buried after acting in college hadn't worked out.

“Oh, I know,” Zayn smiled at him. “I'm so fucking glad you're finally talking about this, man, it has been driving me insane.”

“I know and I'm so sorry- wait, what did you say?” Louis asked, convinced Zayn was finally losing it.

“Louis, man, I love you, but you have been a shitty manager for the past few weeks. And you hate most of your job. You hate dealing with my fans, because they are not your fans, to you they are just some people yelling crazy shit at you on Twitter, not the people you owe your entire career to. You hate organising things, you hate events, the only thing you like is writing and even then you don't like the kind of music that you have to write for me.”

Louis could only stare at him. All the time he took coming to terms with this and Zayn had just known the whole time. He wasn't entirely sure whether to hug him or punch him, but in the end he decided to hug him really really tight and then tried to cry inconspicuosly into his best friend's shoulder. Zayn didn't call him out on it, but he didn't let go either.

 

*

 

**i quit my job as zayn's manager**

**i know you probably don't care but over the last few months you were the person that i told everything**

**well, almost everything**

**i just felt like i had to share this with you**

**i'm actually gonna try to be a singer myself**

**the guy who was singing on that demo i sent you was me. you told me i had a nice voice, remember? you probably don't, it's silly. anyway, i guess i just wanted to thank you, for encouraging me and always being so kind to me**

**well, you thought i was zayn, i guess i would have been nice to me too**

**but thank you**

**and for the record, even though it probably doesn't mean anything right now and seems a bit creepy to you**

**i'm in love with you, have probably been since we spent the whole night talking about our families**

**i didn't tell you before, because i felt so guilty about giving you false hope**

**i knew that it would never work out and i didn't want you to think that zayn malik loved you even though he doesn't actually know you**

**but i love you**

**i guess that's all i had to say**

**i'm still sorry**

**oh by the way, here's zayn's phone number**

_**contact forwarded** _

**guess i owe you that one**

**he feels bad about the whole thing, but he hasn't fired me or anything, i quit because i wanted to**

**he's nice like that**

**i'm gonna stop texting you now before you block my number and i feel even more like a creepy stalker than i am right now**

**i wish you all the best (is that what people say in these situations? i don't have much experience)**

**it was an honour getting to know you, harry styles. i mean that.**

 

*

 

Louis was currently deciding whether pizza or curry would be the better choice of takeaway to cry into while watching _The Notebook_ , so when the doorbell rang, he thought for a moment someone else had miraculously made the decision for him.

When he opened the door though, there wasn't a delivery guy in front of him. It was Harry.

Louis' first instinct was to slam the door shut again. But even if he wanted to, right now he wasn't able to do much more than stand still and stare at Harry, not actually sure that he wasn't hallucinating.

Louis couldn't think of anything to say, so he just made a gesture for Harry to come inside, taking several steps back himself. Harry stepped inside, carefully closing the door behind him.

He still seemed wary to move closer to Louis, lingering near the doorway. He reminded Louis of a frightened animal. A cute, baby animal.

“I messaged Zayn,” Harry said. Louis felt all the hope that had been threatening to build up since he saw Harry standing in front of him being replaced by the cold feeling of ice water running through his veins. Why was he telling him this, he didn't want to hear this.

“That's nice,” Louis managed to choke out. He tried for a smile, but it probably looked more like a grimace.

“To get your address,” Harry clarified. “I haven't forgiven you yet. But the truth is, I've been miserable without you these past few days. And you said you could explain, so I wanted to give you a chance. Please. Explain.”

Louis was drawing a blank. He had been lying awake for days, imagining what he would say to Harry if he ever managed to talk to him again. But now that he was standing in front of him, it was like all of that had been replaced by white noise.

“I-” Louis started, his voice shaking. He cleared his throat and tried again.

“I'm sorry.” It seemed important to get that one out of the way first.

“I think, first, I need to say that I didn't mean for this to happen. I didn't wake up one day and decided to get Harry Styles to talk to me by using my best friend's identity. To be quite honest, I didn't even properly know who you were before that whole fight about the Sugarscape article started.” He tried for a self-depricating smile but his shaking voice probably made it look more pathetic than Louis was aiming for.

“And I didn't even mean to start that first fight. I actually felt so bad afterwards that I decided to message you. I honestly didn't plan for us to-” _hit it off so well_ , Louis wanted to say. _Feel that spark_ , but that would sound way too cheesy. “I didn't know that talking to you would be so easy,” was what he settled on. “I didn't know that you were cute and funny and charming and that you had weird habits, like eating a banana in one go,” Louis saw Harry's lips twitch at that, “or that you liked The Fray and trashy romantic comedies and that you would turn out to be such a wonderful person.”

Louis looked at Harry, losing track of what he wanted to say for a moment.

“God, you're so beautiful,” he sighed. Harry didn't run away screaming at the words, so Louis concluded that he hadn't completely scared him away yet.

“Anyway. I didn't expect you to turn out to be so wonderful and I'm so sorry that I kept pretending to be Zayn. It sounds horrible, but I just missed the right moment to tell you the truth and suddenly weeks had passed and I was living this lie.”

Louis paused, feeling drained and exhausted. “I'm sorry. I know I've said it before, but I'm sorry that I made you believe I was Zayn. I know I'm not famous and I haven't won three Grammys and my flat is honestly quite shitty, as you can see-” He made a broad gesture to the furniture surrounding them, “and I know you wanted to be with Zayn, so-” He swallowed, trying to convince himself to say his next sentence. “Like I said in my message, you could talk to him if you wanted to. He's nice, I promise. Nicer than me, probably.”

Louis paused. That was it. That was the whole speech. He couldn't think of anything more he could say in his defense. It probably wouldn't make a difference anyway.

He looked up at Harry expectantly, trying not to feel like a criminal standing in front of a judge.

 

“There's something you're getting wrong though,” Harry said, his expression unreadable. Louis resisted the urge to wrap his arms protectively around himself.

“You're saying that I would want to be with Zayn, because he is who you told me you were. But please tell me,” Harry looked into Louis' eyes, almost pleadingly, “did you lie when you told me that you sent half of the first paycheck you ever got home to your mum?”

Louis shook his head, not quite understanding where he was going with this.

“And did you lie when you told me how your evening plans were to be there for your friends because they were feeling bad?”

That had maybe been two times, Niall was dealing with more relationship problems than Louis at the moment and that was saying something. Louis was shaking his head again as an answer.

“And,” Harry's voice was wavering slightly at this point, almost as if he was afraid of the answer, “did you pretend to care about my problems when you spent the whole night talking me down and making me feel better?”

“No, of course not,” Louis answered vehemently, his mouth open in shock.

“Then I can forgive you,” Harry said. Relief flooded through Louis' veins. At least Harry wouldn't sue him for harassment or something. Maybe they could even be friends at some point.

“Because that's what you do when you love someone,” Harry added, quietly, but Louis heard every word in startling clarity.

“What,” Louis choked out, his mind going on overdrive.

“The thing you're getting wrong, the thing you've been getting wrong this whole time,” Harry said, still across the room from him, “is that I didn't fall in love with the idea of some popstar. I fell in love with you. As a person. Because you're the best person I know. And I don't care that you're not Zayn Malik, I just want to know if you lied to me when you told me that you were in love with me.”

At this point, he almost looked like he was as afraid as Louis was, his voice shaky and small.

 

Not actually answering him, but shaking his head at the same time, Louis took a step forward, then another and then he crashed his lips into Harry's. It was more a colliding of lips and teeth than anything else, but Louis didn't want gentle right now, could deal with gentle later, right now everything he wanted was to be close to Harry as soon as possible.

For a moment he was afraid that Harry wouldn't kiss him back, that Louis had somehow misinterpreted all of this, but then Harry sighed into his mouth and kissed back just as desperately. Somehow, one of Louis' hands found itself in Harry's hair and he used the other arm to wrap it around Harry's back and pull him closer. Harry went willingly, stumbling into him and pressing as much of their bodies together as he could.

“I'm in love with you. Please forgive me,” Louis whispered into the kiss, “I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to lie to you. I would never lie about this.”

“It's okay. We're okay now. Please, just -” Harry reattached their lips, stumbling backwards into the wall, causing Louis to take a step forward and press him against it, leaving both of them barely enough room to breathe. Louis felt like he was on fire, every nerve ending in his body attuned to the feeling of Harry around him, his mouth on Louis', his soft curls, his smell, his breathing.

Harry's shirt had pushed up the tiniest bit, revealing a tiny amount of skin that Louis was now running his fingers over, almost teasingly slow, a stark contrast to their fast, almost desperate kiss. Louis never wanted to forget this moment, never wanted to forget how it felt to finally touch Harry. Even if he decided in the morning that what Louis had done was too fucked up, for now he was his and he desperately tried to burn every second of this into his memory.

“Louis, Lou,” Harry sighed into his mouth, again and again, almost as if trying his name out on his tongue. Louis wanted him to never stop saying it, wanted to never stop hearing it.

“Wanted you for so long,” Louis murmured into his ear, as he unbuttoned Harry's shirt, the need to see all of Harry suddenly too much to prolong it for much longer.

“You've got me,” Harry answered inbetween kisses. “You've got me.”

Then he let Louis take his hand and lead him to the bedroom.

 

*

 

When Zayn came home later that night, Louis didn't even care about his shouted, “Louis are you ho- Is that a condom in the kitchen sink?! Did you fucking have sex in our kitchen, Louis, that is fucking unhygenic, I'm so gonna move out!” and just cuddled Harry's sleeping body closer to him. (It was possible that they had gotten hungry after the first round and didn't bother to move much for the second.)

 

(Sometime during that night, there was also another talk. Louis kept apologizing and Harry kept kissing him, accepting his broad reasoning of “I just wanted you so much”, without getting angry, without getting up to leave.

“You hurt me, Lou,” he whispered in the end and Louis felt the pain settle deep into his chest, the feeling of having hurt Harry, almost like a reminder to never do it again.

“But I forgive you. And I need you to forgive yourself, because this whole thing led me to you. And I don't want you to regret that. Not even for a second.”

Louis didn't have an appropriate answer to that at all, except for - “I'm in love with you. So in love with you.” Somehow it felt important to tell him again.

Harry smiled at him, that bright eyed, dimply smile that Louis' dreams had been made of. “Me too. I've probably been in love since you sent me that song.”

“But you thought I was Zayn,” Louis murmured, not looking at Harry. He needed to say it again, even if it felt stupid, even if Harry had explained earlier.

“The person I fell in love with was you though. The whole time, I only ever fell in love with you,” Harry promised, voice not wavering, as if he knew that Louis needed to hear it again, would maybe need to hear it a few more times before he'd start to believe it. When Louis looked up, Harry's eyes were wide and sincere. “Okay,” Louis said, tension leaving his body. “Okay,” he said again, pressed a kiss to Harry's forehead and closed his eyes.)

 

In the morning, there was a slightly awkward moment when Zayn, only half awake, stumbled into the kitchen and Louis immediately went to posessively wrap his arm around Harry's hip. It didn't help that Harry wasn't wearing a shirt.

They all stared at each other for a moment, until Harry broke the tension by whisper-shouting, “Lou, you know you're the only one that I want, right, please stop.”

Zayn gave them a look that was probably supposed to say _please leave me out of this_ , helped himself to some coffee, and shuffled out of the kitchen again.

Louis, placated, pressed a kiss into the spot on Harry's neck where there was already a prominent love bite forming. “I know, just wanted to make sure you didn't forget,” Louis murmured. He actually managed to control himself until they reached the bedroom this time. Well, almost. Zayn would have to get used to this anyway, best to start early.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Spoilery warnings: generous use of alcohol as a plot device, the general amount of issues that come with one person lying to the other person about their identity, detailed description of a panic attack (starts with “Louis, what the hell are you doing?” and ends at the end of the paragraph; it's over in the next paragraph, but they talk about it, so you might wanna skip that too), a short mention of absent fathers and men in general treating Louis like shit
> 
> Title taken from "Just That Girl" by Drew Seeley (don't judge me, I was rewatching Another Cinderella Story and it seemed fitting)
> 
> [Here](http://lookslikefairytale.tumblr.com/post/158029847660) is the fic post, if you liked it, you can reblog it, or you can leave kudos and comments here!  
> (I'm here on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/likefairytale) and on [Tumblr](https://lookslikefairytale.tumblr.com), if you wanna say hi.)


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